Light
by Mad Vampire Poet
Summary: Angel had helped people, once. When he still thought it mattered. In this crumbling world, left alone, he barely remembers what that was like.


Light

The failing light made the autumn-red trees look like they were on fire as the sunk sank lower. Sunset came earlier every day. For most that was bad news—more time in the dark and the cold. Winter coming at last. For Angel it was a blessing. Less sunlight, less needing to hide. Soon it would be dark enough for him to go out and get some food — some blood. Hopefully he'd find a deer that he could shoot.

As the darkness settled, Angel picked up the rifle on the table and patted his jacket pocket. Not much ammo. Maybe he'd go out to the nearest town and have a look for some more. The place had been deserted long enough that he didn't expect to find anything, but sometimes scavengers came and left some stuff before the infected got to them.

Angel walked outside, being sure to padlock the door after he left. He didn't want anyone getting in while he was out. He'd taken a long time to find a place this cut-off but still near enough to food, he didn't want to lose it any time soon. While he didn't think anyone was actually going to show up and try to take the place, it was a worthwhile precaution.

Out in the woods it was even darker than in the clearing around the house. The trees gave shade even from the moonlight and starlight, only small slivers of silver light reaching the ground beneath his feet.

He didn't see any deer. It seemed strange, since there had been so many animals here last time he'd hunted. All over the place, making all kinds of noise even at night. Something must have scared them off. Clickers? It would be just what he needed, having to deal with infected again. But a little way on he caught a scent, enough to make his mouth water. That changed things. This was a lot better than deer blood.

Angel slung his rifle across his back; he wouldn't need it now. He let his nose lead him to what he could smell. An injured man, lying by the stream. His blood flowed out into the water, diluting the scent, but that meant nothing to a vampire.

Angel knelt down and grabbed the man's shoulders, pulling him from the stream onto the bank. He sputtered for a moment and then spoke, voice raspy and thin.

"No, don't," he said. "Don't help me. Let me drown. It's too late to help. I don't want you to help me."

"I'm not goin to," Angel said. He shifted his face to the demons, fangs ready to bite, but as he brought his mouth towards the mans neck, he hesitated. He wasn't sure if it was because the man was dying or because he wanted to. Maybe Angel just wanted to spite him and his desire for death. It had been a long time since Angel had tried to help anyone. Living in this world as it was there seemed no point to it.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"What?"

"Your name. I asked what your name was."

"Harry," the man said. He was frowning. It must have been a while since he'd met a stranger who didn't want to kill him.

"Were you a Firefly, Harry? You're wearing their uniform."

"Yeah, but… I left. I thought I could make it one my own." He gave a short laugh. "I guess I was wrong."

"You got bit." Interesting. Well, now his wanting to die made some more sense. He didn't want to turn. Strange how Angel couldn't smell the fungus on him though. He could usually smell infected, even before they were turned. It could be that the running water had helped, but he knew that was crap. People had tried things like that before, and it never worked. Which meant…

"You're immune," Angel said, and started laughing. Harry stared at him. "If only they'd found someone like you before. They might have been able to save some people. Bit late now, though."

"They did," Harry said. "It didn't pan out."

"Really? I didn't hear anything about that." Of course he hadn't. Angel hadn't been around people for years, and he'd never been able to find theFireflies, although he'd searched for them.

"We lost her. The smuggler who brought her to us took her away again."

"Why's that?"

"Hell if I know. Maybe he thought he wasn't getting enough out of it. Maybe he actually cared about the girl."

Angel could remember what that was like. Caring about someone, loving them even. Wanting to help them. He remembered Buffy, and Cordelia. Wesley, Fred, Gunn… his friends. He'd give anything to see one of them now. It had been nearly thirty years since he'd seen some of them. Of course, a lot of them were dead, and he didn't know what had happened to any of the others. Buffy would probably stake him if she saw him again, the way he'd been living now. He even missed Spike, however much he hated him.

"Think there are more?" Angel asked. He didn't know what he wanted the answer to be. Was this world even worth saving now? Even the people who weren't infected were at each others throats. It was only a matter of time before they consumed themselves completely.

"Maybe a few. You said you thought I was immune. I don't know how you could know that, but whatever. Doesn't matter. It's not like I can make it back to Salt Lake City in this condition. And even if I did, they might turn me away. We didn't part on the best of terms."

"Salt Lake City? Is that where you were hiding?"

"It was. I don't know if anyone's still there. After what happened with the smuggler and the kid, what was left of them probably packed up and went somewhere else. Made sure no one could find them."

They fell silent. There wasn't much else to say. Angel could smell Harry's blood, thick in the air. He was going to be gone soon. Trying to save him had been completely pointless. Maybe that was why Angel had stopped doing it.

He was so close as well. Angel could just grab him, just as he had when he'd pulled him from the water. Perhaps he should. That was what he'd come out for after all, wasn't it? He needed blood, he needed to feed. Angel had come a long way since his days of helping the helpless.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, longer than a blink. He seemed so tired, like he had been fighting for too long. He was bleeding to death. There was a pool of blood steadily growing underneath him, trickling down the bank to the river below. The rivers water was red already.

Angel reached for him, held him roughly by the neck. He considered letting him fall into the river again and drown, but why bother? It would only be a waste of blood. He tilted his head to the left and bit down into Harry's thorat. He didn't scream, he had no energy left for that. He whimpered and cried for a few moments, then fell silent.

Angel dropped his body, and it fell into the river. He didn't have anything to bury him with, and what was the point anyway? No one was going to come looking for him. He was just another body in the woods now.


End file.
